


Becoming an Addams Family Cousin

by TheKeeper_of_TheSmut



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Anal Sex, Canon Autistic Character, Choking, Cutting, Dark Magic, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Pedophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKeeper_of_TheSmut/pseuds/TheKeeper_of_TheSmut
Summary: The Kapelputs are the German cousins of the Addams family. This was based on a dream I had.





	1. Marrying into the Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Edward became a Kapelput

Edward Kapelput-Addams was born Edward Nashton, the son of a drunk factory worker and a bitter store clerk with crushed dreams of becoming an actress. Both of his parents were born and raised in the same small town that Edward himself was born in. His childhood was not the happiest as he was the anvil that crushed his mother's dreams of being famous and was never deemed an acceptable son by his father.

At age sixteen he had graduated high school early despite his father's claims that he was cheater, a liar, and a retard, and left his town forever. Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly Edward emerged from that hell as Edward Nygma. Except, his butterfly was more of a moth, unwanted and un-admired for dully colored wings. He got a scholarship to Gotham U and became a forensics scientist at the GCPD.

He thought he was doomed to forever remain invisible except to those who sought to mock him. Then he met Kristen Kringle, and while she never seemed to return his affections she was never as rude as the officers he was forced to associate with on a daily basis. Then due some unpleasant events surrounding Ms. Kringle’s current boyfriend (at the time, she had so many at the precinct, never staying single long), Ed found himself defending her against his abusive ways. He knew there was a reason he despised the officers at the GCPD, they were all just like his father. However, the altercation ended with him stabbing the man, for self-defense, and because the bastard deserved it.

"Well," he shrugged, "at least I know how to get rid of evidence." So, with a dark smile Ed collected the officer’s body, and damn he was heavy, and went about his business of chopping the corpse into smaller more manageable pieces.

Ed had always had darker impulses and thoughts, perhaps that’s why he was interested in forensics and medical examinations. Nobody questioned someone performing an autopsy, that was fine; but dissecting road kill in the shed when he was eight was abnormal. Either way after his father found out he insured Ed never did anything so, “Damn creepy and weird, you little fucking psychopath!”.

He hadn’t understood then, and he didn’t now, why what he did was so wrong. He hurt her, had hurt him, so he had killed him. It only seemed right. So he was rather put out when Kristen did not appreciate his act of devotion and his willingness to protect her upon learning of his crime. One rather disturbing argument later, in which she might as well have been his father for the things she called him, she was dead. He hadn't meant to kill her, or to hide her body at the GCPD. Hurt and anger had welled in his heart at how ungrateful she acted toward him for protecting her, and the dark voice in his head said he needed to shut her up before she got him arrested.  

So he did, and she lay dead in his arms. He'd only meant to stop her from running, to get her to calm down. He could explain if she just calmed down, now she was dead, too calm, too quiet. He almost wished she was still alive to yell, to hate him, to call the police. Almost. His darker voice urged him not to cry, she didn’t deserve him, didn’t understand him. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t sick. She and his bastard father didn’t know a damn thing about him. With a sigh he packed her into the backseat of his car and drove to work at two AM, he’d had such high hopes for her and in the end she was a disappointment too.

He found himself unable to part with her hand after finding it lodged in the vending machine, so he preserved it, perfectly manicured and red painted nails and all. Then one day he met Oswald Cobblepot. He knew who he really was though, everyone knew the Addamses, a clan of people so strange they could scarcely be considered human. They had fascinated Edward in his youth and to have a Kapelput, a cousin of the Addamses standing in the GCPD was too good an opportunity to pass up.

And now four years later Edward stood in his robe and house slippers, Kristen's reanimated hand perched on his shoulder, staring down at his beloved husband. Laying in their giant four poster bed, on silk sheets, in their family’s manor.

"Look at him Kristen, I would die for him. I have killed for him, and would again.......Either way, what bliss," he sighed as Oswald's eyes fluttered open.

"Liebling," he purred, making Ed shiver.

“Mica mea pasăre,” He replied.

“Oh, liebe, that was Romanian,” Oswald moaned. Ed smiled and crawled into bed with his husband pressing passionate kisses up his arm to his shoulder, across his collar bones, and neck, leaving bruises in his wake. He finally raised his head to press his lips to his husbands, right hand curling around the smaller man's exposed hipbone. Oswald's hand tightened in his hair pulling him down further. 

"Oh, Edward, last night you were a beast. Untamed, unhinged, you frightened me."

Edward growled in response, dragging his fingernails across his lovers chest and soothing the red lines with his tongue.

"Do it again," the older man purred, watching with an adoring smile as Edward stripped and slid under the sheets.

Needless to say the mayor and his chief of staff were late to work that day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mica mea pasăre-My little bird  
> liebe-love  
> liebling-darling


	2. Loving Someone Different; The Story of How it Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Gertrud came to Gotham and fell in love

If there was one thing Gertrud had learned during her long life it was this; everyone was different and different made you a target. That was the sad truth if life, not the overly optimistic saying that being different was good and made you special. By that logic everyone was special and the popular idols revered by history were no better than a beggar in the streets.

Though, in Gertrud's opinion, the beggar and the rich man were both human and shared all the faults and the impending mortality that all humans do. The only difference is the rich man could afford to cover those faults and live comfortably until his demise. Gertrud herself had the insight of both the beggar and the heiress, and while she had scraped by in Gotham and was no longer a beggar it wasn't until many years later she could call herself a rich woman again.

Gertrud Kapelput-Addams was born in a great manor house in Germany and enjoyed a wealthy upbringing. As she grew older she realized that her childhood differed from the other children of high social standing. The whispers of the townsfolk and the damning accusations of the priests had been both a thorn in her heart and a warm ember of amusement. As a relative of the Addams the word “witch” was often heard and just as often was an accurate description as well as a compliment to those being accused.

Until the consequences fell upon them. Gertrud herself had been taught from a young age all manner of spells and hexes and was just as likely to be brewing a potion or poison in the kitchen as she was to be making a stew. With the arrival of more modern times came the lower number of witch burnings, hangings, angry mobs, torture chambers, (though torture was still used in some countries it was nothing like the horrors Gertrud had fallen asleep listening to.), and men armed with holy water and sharpened crosses. Though firing squads, exorcisms, and the death penalty still posed threats to those like them. And the asylums, both despicable and fascinating in all their inhumane practices and Gothic buildings.

And like all Addamses the threat of these things added a thrill to what they would consider everyday activities such as; buried alive, wake the dead, “and how much blood do you really need?”. Most in her family when faced with any of those dreadfully beautiful and horrendously painful things would smile and titter with morbid glee, and to some extent so could Gertrud. Being an only child she had relied on her mother, her oma, Hilde Kapelput (Originally Hilde Addams thus the Kapelput-Addams), and her father's automatons; clockwork creatures that ran on steam and clanked loudly through the halls of the manor as their featureless faces and spindly limbs completed various chores, for amusement. 

Occasionally her pursuit of entertainment would lead her to tormenting the neighbor children with things like worms in their tea sandwiches, showing up covered in animal blood and soaking them in it as well, and throwing ashes and soot onto their nice pastel dresses. But most of her childhood was spent in the desolate courtyard of her family’s manor, waltzing with her father’s creations over cracked concrete, through patches of dying and withered flowers, and mazes of grotesque statues dedicated to deceased members of the family. 

When she wasn’t outside enjoying the meager sunlight she was seated at her oma’s feet, listening to her tell stories of eldritch monsters and other dastardly creatures. Her oma taught her spells and hexes and knew the answer to almost any question Gertrud could come up with. Her mother specialized in potions and poisons and when Gertrud was finally old enough to be in the kitchens, (toddlers and nightshade leaves were always a dangerous combination), she preferred to spend chilly winter mornings and even more bitterly cold nights in there with her mother. As far as Addamses went her childhood was normal, until one of oma’s harvest rituals went wrong.

A little too much wine and some rather rude comments about her family was all it took to have Hilde running through the streets naked, burning as she went. The head priest had gone out to do something about the, “Hexe,” only to get the edge of his robe caught in the fire. The details of what happened next were obscure as no one was close enough to see it clearly but it appeared as if the priest had tried to grab Hilde and knock the torch from her hand and spilled wine on them both. The liquor caught and they both went up in flames, Hilde cackling all the while.

The church pressed charges and the city too, for damages caused by the fire, and the Kapelputs were forced to leave. By this time Gertrud was seventeen and ready to make her way in the world, so while her father and mother sought refuge with his brother in Austria, Gertrud departed for America, where she knew other Addamses resided. Once again she found that her family’s strangeness drew anger and suspicion from those who considered themselves normal. So after a rousing party to give Fester a proper send off she departed again, and found her place in Gotham.

She’d heard once that this city was a shining beacon of wealth and safety and while it was no longer the golden city of its heyday it wasn’t terribly unpleasant. Besides, the great looming Gothic architecture made her feel like she was home again. For a few years she worked odd jobs here and there as a barmaid and a waitress, all the time wondering what would happen if just a drop of cyanide made it to her customers. Then something remarkable happened, at the age of twenty she applied as a kitchen worker for the Van Dahl family and the moment she laid eyes on Elijah Van Dahl she felt her black heart leap for joy. Having realized the name of Addams would garner her no favour she presented herself only as Gertrud Kapelput and decided she would do her best to not let her…..curious upbringing show. And to an extent she succeeded until she overheard one of the other servants planning on stealing from Mrs. Van Dahl.

That night she sprinkled some aconite, more commonly known as wolfsbane into the other serving girls tea. Just enough to make her feel nauseous and cause minor heart palpitations. Unknowingly Elijah Van Dahl watched from around the corner, having come to the kitchens to admire her beauty. The next day the task of polishing the silver and cleaning the Lady’s jewelry fell to Gertrud since the other girl was ill.

This time Elijah watched for fear that she had made the other servant ill so that she may steal from his mother, and the thought pained his heart, which was already weak. He found her mumbling words in both German and Latin as she polished and while confused he was relieved that at the end of her task not a single trinket had been pilfered. Two months later, after a grand dinner party the other girl, Millicent, was cleaning and slipped a silver spoon into her apron pocket. Moments later her pocket felt heavy and started to bulge under the weight of the numerous spoons in her pocket.

Millicent was confused and scared as the spoons kept multiplying and finally ripped the seam on her apron and the pile of silver fell with a clang. Elijah and his father appeared to see what was going on only to find Millicent scooping up spoons and shoving them into any other pocket she could find. She was promptly fired and a police report was made, although they didn’t arrest her, and she was sent on her way. Another servant was called to collect the spoons and take them to the kitchen to be cleaned and counted, along with the rest of the silver. Twenty minutes later Gertrud appeared, case of silver spoons in hand, and reported that all of them had been returned.

“You knew, that’s what you were doing to the silver, and why you made her ill,” Elijah said softly after his father and mother had left the room.

“I don’t know vhat you’re talking about,” She replied cooly.

“There is no need to lie. I know there is something different about you, something of yourself that you hide. I don’t understand what happened, but I know we don’t own that many silver spoons.” His eyes watched closely as Gertrud debated with herself.

“Vhat is done is done, und novone vill ever steal from the Mrs. or anyvone who is the rightful owner of the silver or the jewels again.” She turned to leave and Elijah caught her wrist softly.

“I take it that you do not wish my parents to know, but you did a great service for my family, I would like to thank you. I don’t know what to offer you except that I might be your confidant in whatever secrets you may have.”

“Vell then, I will reveal to you one, und you can determine vhether or not you still vish to be my vertraute. My name is Gertrud Kapelput-Addams.” It took all of a second for the name to register. She braced herself for the rejection she thought was inevitable and was shocked when a soft chuckle escaped him.

“And all this time I thought they were exaggerating when they said they Addamses were-,” He stopped, seemingly embarrassed about whatever comment he was going to make. This time she was the one to giggle.

“Mr. Van Dahl, there is nothing you could say about my family that I have not heard before. Monsters, heathens, vitches, devils, evil. I used to think them compliments, und I guess, given the context, I still do.”

“And are you? A witch, I mean.” She smiled devilishly, and leaned in.

“That, Mr. Van Dahl, I’ll let you decide, ja?” As she was walking away he called out.

“Elijah! Please, call me Elijah.” She nodded, still smiling and retreated to the kitchen.

Their romance grew from that one conversation. Elijah was often spotted lurking in the kitchens or the dining hall before a dinner, always trailing after the odd kitchen maid with a foreign accent. He inquired about her home, her family, and some of the odd quirks she had. He marveled at the idea of automatons and laughed at some of the more daring and saucy exploits of her kin. Even the more morbid stories of her relatives and her own antics as a child didn’t deter him, though he admitted to finding them odd.

“For somevone who just heard me admit to poisoning the neighbors cat, you’re surprisingly calm.”

“I don’t like to think about hurting animals, but the little beast mauled you all the time and her owner sounds just as beastly. I’m not sure what else you could have done.”

“Poisoned the girl,” she answered bluntly.  
“........And did you?”  
“Vhat do you think?”

It was more than she could have hoped for, and after a whole year of courting in secret she and Elijah had a magical night together. The Van Dahls were hosting an event for the elite of Gotham and she was helping to serve the guests. She watched, annoyed as the rich heiresses of businessmen threw themselves at Elijah and his parents continuously introduced him to more, despite his disinterest.

She was just starting to contemplate hexing them all when a hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into a small alcove in the wall. Elijah stood there, smiling down at her and held a finger to his lips. She watched with amazement as he moved a tapestry aside and pulled on the wall sconce, opening a small passage. She followed him through and out into the gardens, giggling in joy the entire time.

They found themselves in a secluded section of the garden that was off limits, with a high hedge wall that she realized was part of the maze. They settled down in the pavilion and caught their breath. She kept an eye on him, having been made aware of his health condition. To this day the doctors couldn’t explain why he had healed so much, enough to jog or run for short distances and go outside for extended periods of time in spring when previously the pollen in the air would choke him. Nor could they explain how after Gertrud’s forced departure it suddenly declined again and rapidly.

That night he had kissed her and laid her down on the cushioned seat of the pavilion and made love to her. It was the night their son was conceived and the night he promised to marry her. It was the next night, after announcing his intentions that morning that she was forced to leave. She accepted the money she was offered, but the real reason she left wasn’t money. It was fear, for herself and Elijah, and now, years later, she knew had she stayed she would have had to fear for their son. He’d revealed during an argument with his father over the disgrace of marrying a lower class citizen that she was from an old and rich family.

It hadn’t taken much digging for his parents to find the link between the Kapelputs and the Addamses. She was afraid of the repercussions the Van Dahls could bring upon her, and worried about Elijah being ostracized as she was. The sting of being forced from her home in Germany throbbed in her heart and she knew she could not wish such a pain on her dear Elijah, so she disappeared, with only a hastily written note to her love about what had happened and why she left. Ten months later an envelope appeared in Elijah’s room. Inside was a picture of a baby boy with tufts of raven hair on his head and the name Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, scrawled across the bottom.

Elijah smiled, tears dripping from his cheeks, and tucked the picture away in his suit jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vertraute- means trusted, trusted friend.  
> Oma-is granny  
> Hexe-is a witch


	3. Family by Choice; From Hitman to Family (Hit)Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Victor Zsasz got a family.

Zsasz wasn't born into or married to any Addamses or Addams relatives, yet he was family all the same. Family, Victor decided, was anyone you could feel safe around regardless of last names and distant relations that you've never heard of but are still expected to hug or shake hands with at family functions. He'd reached this conclusion after he'd been forced from his, at the time, current residence.

Before Oswald he would have gone into hiding in the slums of Gotham or asked Don Falcone if there were any long-term or out of town jobs to do. Something that would either get him out of Gotham or in one of the Don's safe houses while he did his work. If the second option could be at all avoided then he would, simply because it would almost be similar to admitting he needed help. After all, hitmen of his calibre didn't _ask_ for jobs because men like him were always in high demand.

The Lady had one of those industrial sized three ring binders you see in the hands of business CEOs all for him and a waiting list that was always backed up for at least three months. It was an ego booster, knowing that he did such an efficient job that people were trying to outdo one another in dollar signs to get him on their side. However, his golden reputation had diminished somewhat thanks to a certain GCPD member. Turns out gold corrupts easier than anticipated.

He had a grudging respect for Gordon, but like Edward, the second Oswald decided he no longer liked or needed Jim, or if Jim ever betrayed him, hell would look like a tropical paradise compared to what they'd do to him. Though he supposed it was Jim's snooping that led him to his realization. He'd been out on his ass and thanks to Penguin he didn't have the protection of a Don to cover himself with. However, he'd worked with Penguin a few times before and one time in particular stuck out to him. It was the job that made him consider working for Penguin permanently.

It was during the Theo Galavan debacle and Zsasz was bouncing from hit to hit when the Lady informed him Penguin wanted him for a very special high risk job. It intrigued him, especially when he saw the amount of cash the little mobster was shelling out. He appeared at Fish Mooney’s old club and was promptly escorted to a private booth, where a decidedly agitated looking Penguin sat.

“Well, you got my interest.” The smaller man snorted.

“My money certainly did. You're in high demand.” Zsasz smirked, if the little guy was always this sassy then he knew they'd get along like a house on fire.

“Blunt, I like it. Well, Mr. Penguin, depending on how this job goes I might be willing to make myself more available to you.”

“I'm glad to hear it. However, this job is somewhat different than what I presume you're usually hired for. I was assured that you would not only be up to it, but the most qualified man for the job.”

“Now I'm definitely interested.” The small smile that had settled on the other man's face disappeared. Down to business then, Zsasz supposed.

“My mother was kidnapped by a man named Theo Galavan. He's using her as leverage to get me to wipe out his political competition for him. I had Butch working on it and he thinks he knows where she is.”

“Nice to know the dog I trained for you is still working. And how, might I ask, has Mr. Gilzean acquired his knowledge?”

The other man briefly looked sheepish, though now Zsasz suspects it was because he'd undone all of Zsasz’s conditioning with one desperate and anger fueled move of a dagger. Either way Zsasz had agreed to the job and left the club feeling slightly confused.

He knew his relationship, if it could be called that, with his mother wasn't normal and most people didn't spend most of their early childhood wondering how they'd made it past infancy when you're pretty sure your mom doesn't even know she had a kid. His birth had been one unintended and unwelcome, since the act of making a baby had merely been an exchange of goods. Sex for heroin. He remembers fending for himself in the slums of Gotham because his mother was off somewhere higher than a kite and left him alone.

He remembers the embarrassment of being called to the office at school, (he went because he needed to at least be able to count cash and read, and found that he could scrape by with only mild interest and some half assed homework), because he was wearing the same shirt three days in a row and hadn’t showered. He remembers in high school the comments about his mom and how even though she was a slut they wouldn’t sleep with her whacked out STD infected self. He also remembers the homeless war vet he spent nights with under the bridge in the park.

He learned how to defend himself from that guy, after having gotten jumped for the third time.

 _“Jesus kid, this is getting painful to watch. Just punch ‘em in the dick and run!”_ Best advice he’s ever gotten. He was good at gym and at one point considered being an athlete, but he knew deep down he was destined to lurk in Gotham’s underbelly. The JROTC officer at his high school noticed his physical talents though, and sophomore year he found himself in ROTC.

_“Heh, the army never gives up kid. They’ll start you off young, give you a list of benefits to joining. You know how much of those benefits you’re actually going to see. Look in front of you kid, I’m it. I’m your future if you let them wrangle you.”_

But with ROTC he learned survival skills and tactical planning and how to hold a rifle. The year he graduated he signed up for boot camp.

 _“You’re gonna regret it.”_  
" _I’m not signing up. I’m learning how to survive.”_ _  
_ _“How to kill more like. It ain’t like the fist fights I taught. This ain’t scrapping. This is the real shit.”_

_“You’ve been kicking my ass with your military special ops combat training since I was eight. I think I know real shit. Besides, this is Gotham, learning to kill is how to survive.”_

_He laughed, choking on his cheap hand-rolled cigarette smoke._

_“Think you’re tough shit just because you can go a round in the ring with a washed up soldier. They’ll beat the confidence out of ya kid.”_ _  
_ _“The hell they will.”_

He did well in basics, so well they had him do trials to see if he could qualify for special ops. If he did he’d be put on a task force and get a few years experience. He passed that too, he could fire a gun without looking and still hit his target. Everything from snipers to rocket launchers, to handguns. He learned hand to hand combat and more tactical shit. Then he disappeared.

 _”He would have made a damn fine soldier.”_ _  
_ _“No, he didn’t give damn about patriotism, he came here for one thing sergeant. To learn to kill.”_

Two years later, at the age of twenty three, Victor Zsasz was Gotham’s top hitman. And the man under the bridge finally got his benefits in the form of an envelope full of hundred dollar bills and only the words,

 _“They didn’t beat me”_  written on the front.

Zsasz was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of metal on metal. He looked down and smiled fondly as Jerome skipped, literally skipped, by the stairs, easily deflecting Ivy’s wild lashes with her sword. They reminded him of his Zsaszettes. Life on the streets was hard, especially for women who had to walk every street scared of being grabbed. So he made sure every girl he knew that walked those sleazy streets could fire a gun and throw a punch. His way of giving back to the community.

“All I said was that shade of green looked trashy and that you need to lay off the plant fumes. Jeeze.”

Zsasz huffed a small laugh and went back to thinking about how he got himself into this. Oh yeah, turns out Gertrud Kapelput-Addams is a women who needs no rescue. Because he’d gone to check out the place they were holding her and found her trying to pick the lock on her cell with bloody hands and an even bloodier hair clip. One guard lay twitching against her cell bleeding from the puncture hole in his neck.

“Umm, what are you doing.”

“Are you vith them?”

“No ma’am. Your son, Oswald, sent me.” Her face lit up.

“Oh that sveet boy, sending his momma some help. Vhy don’t you see if you can find the man vith the key to this cell. It vould be easier than trying to pick this lock.” He nodded and drew his gun. He made his way through the building and only found two other people guarding it.

“No key.”

“The man who brought me here must have it. Verdammt!” She hissed, and yeah, ok she was scary when angered. Just then he heard a car pull up and motioned her to be quiet. She made no attempt to hide the bloody hand or hair clip. He makes his way up a flight of stairs and gets into position.

Galavan, his sister, the dog (Butch), and Oswald walk in.

“Mother!” His mother never would have smiled at him like that. Like he was better than the prick of a needle to her. Well, then he would have to do his best to keep Gertrud safe. Because if he couldn’t have a happy life with a loving mother, at least some one else could.

They let her go, but Zsasz knew something was up. Butch for one was acting different. If you weren’t the guy who spent days torturing him in a basement to train him, you wouldn’t notice. Then he saw the glint of steel and fired. The bullet hit Tabitha in her hand and she dropped the knife. Oswald grabbed his mother and ran, Butch tried to reach out and grab them but Gertrud whirled around hissing something in German.

Holy shit, did the room get colder. Yeah, that was his own breath misting in front of him. The ceiling of the warehouse creaked as the cold weakened the metal of the roof. Zsasz flung himself off the ledge, hitting a shipping container and rolled. He landed as the roof caved in and Zsasz covered his head, shielding himself from the worst of it. He got up faster than the stunned trio still on the ground and raced after Oswald and his mother, bits of ice and metal sliding off the kevlar on his back.

Oswald had his mother hidden behind a crate as he fired at the men Theo must have told to come ahead of him in case Oswald or his mother did get out, but they definitely weren’t there when Zsasz arrived.

“Go, Boss! I’ll cover you.”

“Boss?” Zsasz smirked. Oswald nodded in acknowledgement and let Zsasz take over.

He showed up to Oswald’s the next night, a few bullet holes in his jacket and a nasty gash from the ceiling falling on his head, literally, were the only indicators anything had happened. Gertrud ran up and hugged him before muttering in German and touching the cut on his neck. Oswald was behind her.

“My mother said you did well, and you were a big help to us. To me. Now about payment,”

“We can consider it my first paycheck and work out the rest later.” Oswald smiled.

"Well then, welcome to the family.”

At the time he thought Oswald meant the crime family. But when he started noticing plates of cookies and lunch bags with his name on it being left at his residence or at the club he started thinking otherwise.

“Boss, why the cookies?”

“My mother thinks you’re too thin.” And that had been it. He didn’t mind, although the cookies had an odd taste to them, they were sweet but had a tang to them. Life had resumed a form of normalcy for him after that. Until he lost his…...house might have been too generous a word. He also knew Oswald was currently in Arkham. But Falcone was gone, so he was fucked. Or so he thought, until he saw Gertrud standing outside his sleazy roach-side motel.

“Uh, hey? Anything I can do for you Ms. Kapelput?”

“Vell, you see, vith my poor boy in Arkham I find myself in need of company. I have recently reconnected vith an old flame and ve have plenty of room.”

“Ms. K, that’s real nice but,”

“Und he said he needed some extra security around the house vhile the contractor is there to help remodel. It's such an old house, vith old pipes, and many priceless heirlooms. Perhaps you could stay vhile they do that.”

“Ms. K, I know for a fact you are more than capable of handling sticky fingers.”

“Ah, but Victor, my old eyes don’t see as much as they used to. Und my hearing is going, my veary old bones could use the help.” Zsasz isn’t surprised she knows his first name.

“Well, Ms. K, I don’t know who you’re calling old. Since I’m positive a beauty like yours is ageless, but who am I to argue with a lady. Especially a lady that bakes cookies.” He holds out his arm and she loops her hand through it.

“After you.”

He’d only meant to stay for a while, but somewhere between walking in the front doors of the Van Dahl manor and watching Gertrud and Elijah waltz through the lilies. To their huge celebration feast when Oswald was released from Arkham, slightly shaken from his stay and certainly not as violent, almost normal, but finding out that his friend he had a crush on after he’d saved Oswald’s life was too absorbed in a revenge plot against Jim Gordon to worry about Oswald’s shaky mental state put him in a foul enough mood to go head hunting. Starting with Butch and Tabitha, who’d perched themselves at the top in his absence.

Barbara was…..unpredictable but seemed harmless enough, or at least less likely to challenge for the throne. Well at the time, again thanks to questionable methods from Arkham's Dr. Strange. Now it was almost a weekly thing and reminded Zsasz of siblings fighting over a favorite toy. At least Strange’s odd methods had given Gertrud a chance to get even with the man who hurt her son, since Oswald had dealt with Galavan personally the first time. Odd that his need to confront the man who had tried to murder his mother had resulted in him meeting his future husband.

Gertrud had calmly asked him to go collect her, “little hellion before he gets himself into too much trouble”. Oswald had been shocked to learn his mother had reconnected with his father, but was excited as well. The reunion had been sweet and the love story left Zsasz feeling warm and fuzzy, and who gives a shit if he’s a sap for crap like that. The brutal murder of Grace and her children for poisoning Elijah was his favorite part.

Well shit, it was Christmas and he was still here. He needed to get off his ass and get a place to stay. He wandered downstairs and found the stockings that had been hung, except there was a new stocking. It was all black, and like the others had an actual human leg and foot still in it, and like the others little gifts adorned the gruesome sight. His name was sewn onto the side and a black wool scarf was wrapped around the knee. Hand knitted by Gertrud herself no doubt with little silver bullets and guns patterned across it.

He slowly reached out and ran his fingers along the material. He unwrapped it from the leg and wrapped it around the neck before pulling the severed limb out of the stocking, the toe tag said Charles. Ah, one of the she-devils children. Tucked between his toes were little paper packets, powdered poisons. He reached inside the stocking and pulled out two cases of bullets and a tin of cookies.

“Did you think ve vouldn’t get you anything?”

“Ms. K, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never really had a Christmas present before.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Ve’re family now Victor. Familie nach wahl, nicht durch blut.”

She patted his cheek and then left to get herself some tea from the kitchen.

Zsasz rubbed the scarf again. “Family.” He smiled, yeah, he could get used to family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verdammt- damn it  
> Familie nach Wahl, nicht durch Blut.- family by choice, not by blood.


	4. Journey of a King; Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces of Oswald's childhood that shaped his desire to become King of Gotham

Oswald can still remember being a small child sitting at his mother’s feet playing with his hand made voodoo doll. He remembers her in the rocking chair knitting or sewing up a patch in his clothing while humming. He also remembers the nights she’d come home exhausted from working so hard. He’d asked one night why his Vati didn’t help or come visit. He hates thinking about the sadness that claimed her features and knowing that he put it there.

“My little Kapelput, ve are different. Everyvone is different, und that is vhat they say makes you special. They say dis because it sounds nicer than the truth, vhich is people hate different. They hate it because they don’t understand it und they vill do anything to hurt you. Don’t let them do that to you my liebling.”

“Ja, mutter.”

He definitely remembers the taunts and ridicules of playground bullies every time he came to school wearing the same sweater or pair of slacks because they didn’t have a washer or dryer and they had to save quarters to do laundry. He remembers the slurs aimed at his sexuality for sewing, and cooking, and doing what they considered girl things.

They didn’t know he was sewing his own clothes and quilts, and making voodoo dolls. They didn’t know he could brew a poison as easily as he could make bread or soup. He remembers the first time he got into a fight. Fifth grade, Marvin Greggor, a large red-faced child with a scrunched up nose and beady eyes.

Oswald didn't mind the taunts about his girlish hobbies or his looks or sexuality. He had decided while listening to his mother's tales of true love, usually considered too morbid by others, that gender was unimportant. He had no preferences and the allure of sex didn't draw him in unless he knew the act had meaning. And meaningful coupling was only achieved if you cared about the other person and their desires, regardless of your own pleasure.

So, taunts such as, “fag” and “fairy” held no real bite. Jabs at his beak nose and pale skin and freckles were brushed aside. Simple observations of his physical traits were nothing to be bothered by. He knew he wasn't conventionally attractive but he'd heard girls in the upper grades complain about how blue his eyes were and how long his lashes were and why his hair was a perfect shade of raven that caught the light and reflected it in shades of violet and midnight blue.

During his middle school years he'd been chubby and he'd been picked on for that, but also envied by girls for how soft and sweet it made him look. His mother had also assured him he was handsome, the perfect standard of gentlemanly grace and charm for a Kapelput. He was proud of his rather strange lineage and of being a Kapelput and couldn't understand his mother's insistence on using “Cobblepot”.

Later in life he appreciated the protection it gave his mother that she wasn't immediately associated with Oswald Cobblepot and therefore a target. It was this pride that lead him to his first fight and ultimately down the path of becoming the King of Gotham. Marvin had made a comment along the lines of, “I bet they're all inbred and that's why they so weird. Hey! Cobble _snot_ is your mom your aunt too?!” Marvin had just let out a big donkey bray of a laugh and turned to his crowd of followers to bask in their laughter when Oswald tackled him and started slamming his head into the concrete.

Dazed, Marvin lay prone until one of his friends, Jeremy Bulk, pulled Oswald off.

Oswald was much smaller and twisted out of Jeremy’s grip before turning and sinking his teeth into the skinny blonde’s arm. Immediately blood filled his mouth, Jeremy screamed and flailed his arm trying to shake Oswald off. Marvin got up, grabbed his middle and pulled, yanking him off Jeremy with a chunk of skin still clenched between his teeth.

Twisting in his grasp he started clawing at Marvin’s face until he felt something wet squelch under his nails. The other children had been stunned before cheering the fight on but they all fell silent as Marvin dropped Oswald and fell to the ground with a hand pressed against his ruined and bleeding eye. Oswald was pissed, this mistkerl had picked on him since first grade and now he'd insulted his family and his mother.

Oswald kicked the bully’s face with all his might and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch. Two adults came running over when they heard kids screaming and Oswald was pulled away, and given how seriously injured Marvin was, was taken to the GCPD and held until his mother came to get him. He sat waiting for three hours until she got off work. His mutter had been furious.

“I taught you better! Poison that schwien’s lunch, use voodoo, anything! Now you're suspended!”

“But mutter, what he said about our family! You said don't let them hurt me or put me down! I made him pay for his insult in blood, like the stories you tell!”

Gertrud sighed, “I did say that, didn't I. Vell, new deal, you try to stay out of trouble until you're grown und out of school. Then you can have revenge on anyvone you vant.”

“By then, mutter, nobody will dare to cross me and I won't need vengeance.”

Curses and poisons were all well and good, but the intimacy of inflicting pain on another with your own hand was intoxicating. The fear the other children who had mocked and scorned him had sparked a morbid glee in him. He would be a man powerful enough to invoke that fear and demand respect. He would run Gotham or die trying.

To make his mother feel better he didn't pick any more fights the rest of the school year and Marvin, patch over one eye, and Jeremy who had stitches in his arm; now a jagged scar with the faint outline of Oswald's teeth, never bothered him again. If two years later when he was in seventh grade at the new junior high he pushed Lance Tanning off the roof of the four story apartment building his mother and he lived in after the baseball player chased him home, then his mother didn't need to know. Lance knew Oswald pushed him but since Os snuck behind him to do it he didn't actually see it, so it wasn't enough to press charges.

If he spiked Lindsey Mindz's water at cheer tryouts and watched from behind the bleachers with stifled cackles as she went nuts and bit Patty Snow’s nose off, then no one could prove it was him or even had any clue what caused it. Except his mother who noticed he'd lifted her bottle of absinthe from the locked cabinet on the third shelf. Not that she was going to punish him after the little bitch dumped bleach on him, ruining his new school clothes and bleaching patches of his hair blonde. Luckily his oma’s spell book had a recipe for essence of raven so they could save his hair, even if he did have to hide the crest of feathers that popped up.

He'd rather liked the look and kept the spikey hair in different variations since that day. They weren't actual bird feathers anymore, but close enough. And the look on Lindsey’s face when he'd come to school the next day with hair even sleeker, darker, and shinier than her cheap dye job had been worth it.

So, if Aaron Jenksen, Lindsey’s boyfriend, went missing there were whispers, but no one could prove it was him. Oswald had run to the 24 hour store to get some cheap frozen dinner since his mother was ill and currently downing a fresh brewed batch of Addams family remedy, a drink that would rouse a corpse into a drunken stupor. Aaron was out with some guys, doing things they probably shouldn't have and he'd taken off after Oswald to confront him about what happened.

This time Oswald wasn't expecting a fight, no poison, no curses prepared, nothing. He'd bolted down a side alley and crouched behind the dumpster. He heard Aaron coming down the alley and knew if he was found he was fucked and started looking for anything he could to use as a weapon. As if fate was just as bloodthirsty as Oswald his gaze alighted on an old broken switch blade.

It was this moment that cemented his path in life, because as Aaron ran by Oswald sprang and buried the jagged edge of the rusty piece of metal into Aaron's neck. Aaron jerked around in shock and slammed Oswald into a wall and slouched on top of him, desperately clawing at the knife in his neck. Oswald shoved hard, pushing Aaron off and proceeded  to slam his foot into his face, breaking his nose and knocking out several teeth. The jock twitched once and then laid still. Oswald spit on him out of spite and relished in this moment, the moment he committed his first murder. He was preparing to leave the alleyway when a voice from the shadows stopped him in his tracks.

“Not bad, but if you leave the blade they can lift prints. Oh and DNA from your spit. Think before you act, especially if the act is motivated by anger or spite, kid. Those are usually the least thought through actions a person can commit.”

Oswald whirled around to see who spoke and saw a dark skinned woman with short black hair

“Who are you?! And I'm not a kid.” The woman didn't appear to be much older than him and had no right to call him a kid.

“Well, you're not a high school student, so a kid to me. Anyway, I don't give my name out to people I don't trust.”

“How do you know I’m not a high school student unless you go there? I could just ask around and find out who you are.”

“How do you know I don’t use a fake name, at school or on the streets? What makes you so sure I’m a current high school student and not a former one? Maybe I’m in college. Also I didn’t know you weren’t a freshman, since you’re too young to be anything else, your reaction just told me. You won’t last very long in this business if you’re that easy to read.”

“What business?”

“Killing people, I can see it. You didn’t have to kill this kid, he would have run right past you, but you _wanted_ to, and you did. Not that I’m judging you.”

“I’m not an assassin, or even trying to be one. I want more than that.”

“Yeah I see that too. You wanna be a bigshot, kid. Wanna be in charge? Then stop pulling shit like this,” she kicked Aaron’s cooling body for emphasis.

“Shit like this will get you caught. You wanna be in charge you can’t just kill people who piss you off, there are better ways of getting even. I mean yeah, this game requires a few dead pawns, sometimes you gotta take out a king, but at the end of the day, shooting everybody won’t win you any loyalty.”

“Fear. I want people to respect me because they’re afraid not to.”

"Better to be feared than loved, that’s how the saying goes. But kid, if everyone fears you they secretly hate you. The next big player who comes along with enough cash and a longer fuse on their temper and they’re gonna turn on you before you can say, ‘oh shit’.”

“Why do you care? How do you know any of this?”

“Because, I wanna be on top too. I want the same thing you want, respect.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look at me, I’m pretty girl in a big boys game. No one takes me seriously.”

“That’s what I don’t get, underestimating someone for being a woman.” The woman laughed.

“Damn kid, I like you. Love to meet the woman who taught you that lesson.”

“My mother, she’s the sweetest lady I’ve ever met, but she’d also skin you alive and make you say ‘thank you, ma'am’ the second you cross her.” The other laughed again.

“Yeah, my momma was like that too. Now, come one kid, we gotta get rid of this evidence. Unless you want to go to jail.”

“I have to go to the store first. My mother is sick and I was supposed to be grocery shopping. I’ve been gone too long already, she’ll worry.”

“Ok, take care of your momma. Then sneak out and meet me in the old storage block in the industrial side of town at midnight. If I’m not there in an hour I got caught at work and I’ll handle it whenever, if I’m there you’re gonna learn to clean up your own mess. Got that, boy.”

“Oswald! My name is Oswald. Not ‘kid’ or ‘boy’.”

“Fish.” Oswald took her outstretched hand and shook.

“I’ll see you later, Oswald.”

“Definitely, Fish.”

That night was the first time he met Fish Mooney, his mentor, future employer, a second mother, and his greatest rival. Meeting her would change his life forever and help him become the King he always wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vati- father  
> mutter- mother  
> oma- grandma  
> mistkerl- dirty pig, bastard (It's the most improper and rude form of the word pig in German. Never used in polite company and is a swear word).  
> Schwein-pig. (can also mean bastard but is less rude and insulting than mistkerl).


	5. Ed Part 2; Family Values (Thankful)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Oswald are enjoying a passionate night together and Edward is thankful for everything Oswald has given him.

Ed can’t believe how incredibly lucky he is to have such a beautiful husband. The gorgeous man who shares his bed every night and fills his bright cheery mornings with dark gloomy clouds. To others that would sound horrible, but daylight had never done Edward any favors, in fact he’d met his beloved at night. Night is when Oswald looks his best in Edward’s opinion. Like right now, with Oswald’s pale skin glowing in the moonlight, appearing ethereal. He looks like a spirit of some kind, hauntingly pale with electric blue-green eyes that cut through the shadows like spotlights.

His raven hair is mussed, glinting royal blue and deep purple as it catches the light. A perfect contrast to his snow white skin and his blood red lips, the deep scarlet color further highlighted from their previous kisses which left some actual blood from Edward’s enthusiastic nipping at the supple flesh. The blood dots the wet, glistening flesh in blossoms of dark red, almost seamlessly blending into the naturally red lips of his beloved.

His long lashes flutter against his cheek bones and his perfectly slim throat is exposed as he throws his head back against the pillows. Ed wraps his long bony fingers around it but doesn't squeeze, yet. He enjoys feeling his beloved’s quickened pulse beneath his fingers, the rush of warmth as his life blood is pumped through his body. The evidence of this is in the pink flush to his cheeks, the blood on his lips, and the erection between his legs.

Ed’s own cock is buried deep within his husband, thrusting in long slow movements. His grip tightens on his beloved’s throat, relishing in the absolute trust this dark angel has in him. He would never hurt his darling husband unless he asked for it. He knows he wouldn’t because he can’t, he belongs to Oswald and to lose him would shatter all that is Edward Nygma and scatter the pieces in the wind.

He belongs to Oswald body, heart (as dark as it is), and soul (what’s left of it). Oswald breath stutters under him and he removes his hand, allowing his love to gasp in air. He knows that he isn’t the one in control and that Oswald lets him have this, this power over him and that it’s only because he’s being allowed that he can even be the one inside of Oswald.

He also knows the power he has over his husband, he knows Oswald would do anything for him. It’s his devotion to Edward and possessive nature that drew him to Oswald like a moth to flame. The need to possess Ed entirely, assuring Ed and anyone who threatens him or looks at him twice that Ed is his. Demonstrating it with a necklace of bite marks on his neck or the imprint of his fingers on Ed’s wrists. All his husband asks in return is that Ed obey him. That he be willing to give him anything, kill anyone, whatever Oswald needed of him.

It feels like salvation, from himself and from the abuse he'd suffered all his life, to be allowed to kneel at the feet of this dark beauty, his angel of death whose wings leave trails of blood and chaos wherever he goes. Until Oswald, Ed had been lost and unaware of who he was, but with the guidance of this man he feels whole. Ed's hips increase in speed, hammering into the man below him, and his lips descend to capture the bright red petals of the other's lips.

His lips move from the other's mouth to his neck, biting at the ring of faint bruising his choking left. Oswald's shimmering onyx painted nails come up to scratch at his scalp, spindly fingers twisting into his dark chocolate curls.

“Oh! Darling, mark me. I'm-ah!-yours! Please, make me bleed.” Ed obeys without thought, teeth breaking the smooth white skin. The savory taste of Oswald’s blood saturates his taste buds and Ed’s hips buck wildly in response.

Oswald’s other hand comes up to scratch at his shoulders and down his back, breaking the skin and leaving little rivers of blood. The pain mixes with the pleasure and Ed’s senses drown in euphoria as his thrusts falter, rhythm lost to animalistic passion. Oswald’s cries increase in volume, slim angular hips rolling down into Ed’s thrusts to absorb the impact, taking each powerful blow directly to his prostate.

This is what Ed had been searching for his whole life, someone who understood him, who saw the beast in him and accepted it. Oswald didn’t try to tame him or cage him, he set him free. He was no longer a beast without a home or a purpose. _Home_ , Oswald gave him a home and a family. The family he’d craved for as a child, one that accepted him and loved him. Gertrud and Elijah had been the parents he’d never had.

“Oswald, my love, I’m close,” his voice was wrecked, a low growl barely audible over the other’s screams of ecstasy.

“Let go-AH! Oh f-fuh!-let go, liebe. I want to feel you!” Ed presses his hips against the smooth, porcelain ass of his lover. His hips grind forward, pulsating shaft never leaving the warm clutch of his ass. Oswald’s muscles clench around him, rocking subtly to keep pressing the head against his sweet spot.

Oswald can feel his husbands hips twitching against his ass as his grinding picks back up into short rapid thrusts. The man above him stiffens, hips pressed tight against his backside as he empties his load inside him with a loud cry of Oswald’s name. The way he says it, like he’s calling out to some higher power, voice cracking in awe and reverence, pushes Oswald over the edge. His hips lift from the bed, head thrown back and eyes rolling into the back of his head as fireworks light up in his vision.

They stay like that for a bit, bodies shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. Ed pulls out slowly after a moment and leans down to lap the cooling pool of cum on Oswald’s belly. Ed licks up his darling husband’s release like a kitten laps up milk, delighting in the taste of his beautiful bird. Once Oswald is clean Ed lays down next to him, settling behind Oswald so that his chest is pressed tightly to Oswald’s back.

“I was thinking, maybe you should get me a collar.” Oswald turns to look him in the eye.

“Why is that, mein liebe?”

“Before you I was like a dog without a master, but you gave me a home, a family, and direction. Plus, it would satisfy your possessiveness, to collar me. ‘Property of Oswald Kapelput, if found please return to Van Dahl Manor’.”

Oswald snorts in amusement, but there is a look in his eye that tells Ed he’s considering it.

“Would you wear it everywhere? Every day?”

“I was kidding, though I wouldn’t be opposed to a collar in the bedroom. Is this about Isabelle again?”

“Isabell _a,_  with an ‘a’. As if she’s some fancy French Maid.”

“Isabella, or Isabelle, was the Queen of Spain, dear, not France.”  
“I don’t care.”

Edward huffed, amused by his husbands antics.

“Oswald, you are the love of my life. You gave me all I could ever ask for. I’m yours, to do with as you please. My heart is in your hand, and you could cast it to the ground and crush it under your foot and I would still serve you. Eu sunt sclavul voștri, întotdeauna, dragostea mea.”

Oswald’s eyes water as he presses a soft kiss to Edward’s lips.

“Du bist mein wertvollster Schatz. Ich brauche dich, Edward, und ich liebe dich für immer. I still can’t believe you learned Romanian just to impress my mother.”

“I was also curious how she just looked at me and seemed to know my ancestry. It’s not like I had a great grandfather from Romania, it was a long time ago. Naturally I’d want to learn more, especially when she mentioned ‘ancient rituals’ and ‘dark magic’. However, it was mostly to impress your mother.”

“Well it worked. I told you she’d love you, and she did, even before you learned Romanian.”

Edward smiled, hand finding Oswald’s in the moonlight and lacing their fingers together.

“I was nervous, I’d hardly dated before you. I’d certainly never gotten anywhere near the ‘meet the parents’ stage of a relationship. And you know how I can be when meeting new people. I didn’t want to upset your parents and ruin our relationship.”

“Edward, I find your social awkwardness adorable. Besides, you’ve gotten better, your confidence has bloomed since I met you. And even if you had accidentally said something odd I doubt it would have ruined our relationship.”

“It’s you, darling. You bring out the best in me, or I suppose in some cases the worst.”

“I like you at your worst. So primal, vicious, disturbed,” Oswald purred in a smoky voice.

"Careful darling, or you’ll get me started again,” Ed warned, but he was hoping Oswald would keep going.

To his delight Oswald did indeed continue. Oswald’s hand detached from his, briefly causing Ed to panic, before they moved to his shoulders, nails digging in sharply. He shoved Edward over onto his back and swung his leg over his hips, shuffling down until he straddled Edward’s thighs. Oswald smiled ferally down at him, and leaned in to kiss him, teeth biting into his lower lip and drawing blood.

“Oh, Oswald, my love,” Edward sighed, eyes rolling back into his head with bliss.

“I’m so lucky, and thankful. You have given me everything I ever wanted. Parents who care about me, a loving spouse, and children. Although I will say I still dislike children, ours are old enough to not get on my nerves, except Ivy on occasion. But, I love our children.”

“Edward, you are a wonderful father, so naturally our children are more pleasant than those ruffians they are forced to associate with at school. Honestly, such horrid creatures. Not at all like the horrid creature who lives in the wine cellar, at least he’s behaved.”

“Dear, as much as I would love to continue talking about horrid creatures and our lovely children, I’d much rather you finish what you started.” Edward punctuated his point by thrusting sharply up against his husband.

“Ah! Oh, Edward, I have every intention of finishing this, very, very, slowly.”

 

The rest of the night was spent in the throes of passion, sharply punctuated every now and then by loud cries of passion.

 

Down the hall Gertrud smiled fondly and shook her head.

“Young love, if only it was as quiet as it is beautiful.” Elijah found himself chuckling in agreement.

 

“NOT AGAIN!” Ivy’s voice shrieked above the screams of ecstasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Eu sunt sclavul voștri, întotdeauna, dragostea mea."-
> 
> "I am your slave, always, my love."
> 
> "Du bist mein wertvollster Schatz. Ich brauche dich, Edward, und ich liebe dich für immer."-
> 
> "You are my most precious treasure. I need you, Edward, and I love you forever."


	6. Ed Part 3: Meeting the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed meets Gertrud and Elijah for the first time. It goes a lot better than he thought it would.

Edward Nygma stood stiffly next to his boyfriend of one year, Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin and King of Gotham. However, that’s not what made Ed so nervous. No, it was that Oswald had seduced him, and it wasn’t all that hard to make Ed drop to his knees to do his King’s bidding, into meeting his parents.

_“Really, darling, it’s been a year. And given that you proposed I think it’s time you met my parents.”_

_“I’ve never met anyone’s parents before. What if they don’t like me? My own parents didn’t like me. They’re Addamses.”_

_“Honestly, dear, you’re a nightmare. A beautiful, dark, deadly, terror. They’ll adore you. And we’re Kapelputs, relatives of the Addams.”_

“Ed, darling, relax. I can feel you shaking.” Ed looked over at his beautiful fiance. His angel of darkness.

“Sorry, nervous.”

Oswald squeezed his hand reassuringly and led him up the stairs to the grand manor that he lived in. Ed had visited a few times, but never when his mother and father were home. Oswald twisted the handle and the large intricately carved oak door swung open.

“Hand me your coat, my love.” Ed numbly shrugged off his coat and watched Oswald hang it in the hall closet with his.

“Oswald, I’m going to be sick.”

“Nonsense. Deep breaths, remember that I love you, and that’s all they care about.”

Oswald took his hand again and led him towards the sitting room, but before they could enter a woman with long blonde hair came over and hugged Oswald tightly.

“My boy, vhat took you so long? I thought you eloped!”

“Mother!”

“Dear, give him some space. He was only gone an hour.” Ed froze, this was it. Oswald’s mother and father. Gertrud made scoffing noise and released Oswald from her grip. Her gaze then honed in on Edward. She analyzed him for a moment and Ed thought he might actually die. His heart was racing so fast he was positive it would leap out of his chest, tap dance across the floor, then collapse.

Suddenly Ed felt himself being yanked down into a hug.

“So handsome! Und tall, Osvald you didn’t tell me he vas so tall! But he’s so thin, I feel bones!”

“Gertrud, my sweet, I think you’re making the poor boy nervous.”

“No, he was already like that. Mother, Edward isn’t a big fan of being touched by strangers.”

Gertrud let go, eyes scanning the lean face of the man who was going to marry her son. Ed gulped nervously when he saw her eyes darken.

“Mörder, ich sollte ihre zehen kochen und ihre teile sterilisieren, damit sie nie kinder haben! Und sie sagen, ich bin ein monster,” She muttered with disgust and rage.

Ed relaxed slightly, now that he knew she wasn’t mad at him.

“Oswald entführte und kochte und schälte die haut für unseren sechsmonatigen jahrestag. Wenn das dich besser fühlen lässt.”

Gertrud gasped, eyes brightening to bright sky blue. “I taught him so vell, I’m so proud. Und you speak German, vhat a pleasant surprise. I thought it vould be Romanian, given your looks.” She looked at him closely for a moment, before nodding. “Ja, you have powerful magic in your blood.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She patted his cheek lightly.

“I have much to teach you. Now, come sit. I’ll have Olga bring snacks, you’re too skinny.”

Elijah strode forward and shook Ed’s hand.

“Elijah Van Dahl, pleasure. My son has told me so much about you. Tell me, is forensics as fascinating as they show on television?” The conversation flowed easily from there. Ed went into nerd mode and shared interesting lab stories. He and Elijah also talked about how Ed almost became a doctor.

"Good thing my Gertrud knows how to take care of me. Still, had you been a doctor, I would have valued your input."

"It's more of a hobby for me. I find it fascinating, but forensics is like trying to solve a puzzle. Only you have to find all the pieces first. I also contemplated engineering. I like working with my hands, taking things apart, building them. I think somewhere that interest switched to humans. Taking them apart, analyzing them, it's why psychology fascinates me. There's just so much, but ultimately I think that's what fueled my forensic fire. M.E. would also fulfill my need to solve a puzzle, to dig around inside a body and find all the pieces, but with forensics you get more fun. I have to look at the evidence from every angle, examine what we know a bout the corpse, the crime scene, and then pry into the mind of the person who committed the crime. It's like wrapping all my hobbies up into one."

"I'd never thought of it that way. You have a very interesting mind, Edward, and you're very intelligent."

"Of course, only the best for my son. He vouldn't vaste his time vith those painted vomen und pathetic little men. Mein sohn würde kein dummes schwein heiraten. Now, I happen to know a few things about taking people apart. Have you ever heard of hobbling? Very effective form of torture." He and Gertrud got into a long debate about torture methods and how much evidence could be left behind.

“Fascinating, I had no idea you could do it that way. It never occurred to me, and it would leave far less evidence.”

“So young, there are many things they don’t teach you about torture. I could show you my great grandfather’s collection of instruments after dinner.”

“Dinner? Oh dear, it is that time. Oswald didn’t mention staying for dinner.”

“I hadn’t planned to, love. But I hated to interrupt your bonding with my parents. And just think, you were afraid they wouldn’t like you.”

Elijah laughed. "I can understand the ‘meet the parents fear’. No, that’s too much heartbreak. If we didn’t like the boy, we’d have just killed him. Much less painful ‘what if’s that way. Right, my angel?”

“Ja, und then ve vould tend to our dear son’s grief. But, I like you, too skinny, but polite, tall, handsome…..You hurt my son however, und they vill never find your body. Verstehen?”

“Ja,” Ed replied hastily.

“Good, now, dinner.” The rest of the evening went well and Ed returned to his apartment smiling.

“Huh, I guess this is what having a family feels like.” Ed smiled again, curling into his covers and thinking of his fiance.

“I could get used to this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abusers, I should boil their toes and sterilize their parts so that they never have children! And they say I'm a monster.:  
> Mörder, ich sollte ihre Zehen kochen und ihre Teile sterilisieren, damit sie nie Kinder haben! Und sie sagen, ich bin ein monster.
> 
>  
> 
> Oswald kidnapped and boiled and peeled their skin for our six month anniversary. If that makes you feel better.:  
> entführte und kochte und schälte die haut für unseren sechsmonatigen Jahrestag. Wenn das dich besser fühlen last
> 
> My son would not marry a dumb pig.:  
> Mein sohn würde kein dummes schwein heiraten.
> 
> Understand?:  
> Verstehen


	7. Ghosting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward is stuck in the past and living like a ghost. His husband helps bring him back to the present.
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS CUTTING.
> 
> Also, I feel like this shouldn't need to be said, that yes Ed and Oswald love each other very much, but they don't necessarily have the healthiest relationship. Oswald is possessive and controlling and Ed is mentally unstable and dependent on Oswald. He's obsessed with him, and while still having his moments of wanting to be in control, is submissive to him so that Oswald won't have a reason to leave him. Oswald does take advantage of this and does manipulate Edward, but he does love him and wants him to be happy and safe. And if that means cutting Edward so that he feels connected to the moment then he will, but he doesn't want Ed to do it himself in case he gets carried away.
> 
> THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A HAPPY GOOFY FIC LIKE ADDAMS FAMILY. THIS IS GOING TO GET VERY DARK. THIS RELATIONSHIP IS NOT A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter is being worked on and just a warning, it's about Fish's childhood and their is going to be implied pedophilia in that.
> 
> In the meantime, have this short slightly smutty chapter about Ed and Oswald.

Ed stares down at the faded scar on his wrist. It itches, his whole arm itches actually. His back burns and his arm itches and his ribs hurt. Edward scratches absently, mind not really focused on the action. Instead it’s focused on the imaginary lines of scarlet that well to the surface and spill over. He scratches harder.

Cool fingers curl around his wrist and still the frantic clawing movement of his other hand. Lifting his eyes away from the now red flesh of his arm he meets his beloved husband’s eyes. Oswald is staring into him, to the dark and ugly parts that he spent so long trying to hide. His wrist is raised to the delicate lips of his King.

“It’s not real, darling. It’s over now,” his voice is soft, but commanding.

His back hurts less, reality settling in. The marks of his father’s belt are old and faded, the bleeding staunched. His chest hurts for a different reason now.

“Oswald.” It’s a plea. Spoken softly but full of desperation.

He’s led to the bathroom and watches while his husband draws him a warm bath. He strips obediently and gets in, allowing the water to come up to his jaw. He’s more relaxed now, but no less anxious.

There’s the soft metallic sound of a switchblade opening. Ed presents his wrist like an offering.

“I’m so proud of you, liebeling. You’re doing much better about coming to me when you feel like this.” Oswald praises and Ed sighs in response.

Oswald has a burgundy colored towel ready as he makes the first cut. Ed opens his eyes to watch the ruby rivers drip down his arm onto the towel. Oswald looks into his eyes again. A total of five cuts are made before Edward relaxes and his eyes clear. Five neat and clinical cuts, a practiced hand. Ed thinks it almost looks artistic, the bright red drops against his pale flesh. His King dips the edge of the towel in the water and gently cleans them before bandaging them.

“Bist du bei mir, mein Schatz?”

“Yes, I’m much better now.” And he is. The tightness is gone, his mind is focused again.

He feels less like a ghost wandering through the endless dark of purgatory and more like a damned soul who found salvation.

Oswald kisses his wrist, then kisses him. The bath is drained and Oswald guides him to bed and strips down. Kissing every part of Ed’s body before marking it with his nails and teeth and tongue.

It’s grounding. Ed knows it’s real, he isn’t going to wake up alone. Oswald’s fingers work him open and he slides inside. Edward calls out his name like he’s calling out to a god. Oswald is his god, his salvation. Those delicate fingers that so gently and tenderly slit his skin like a priest slits a sacrificial lambs throat, the same hands that have viciously and savagely murdered, lock around his throat.

Ed comes with a choked cry of Oswald’s name, spots dancing in his vision. Oswald thrusts a few more times, grip still tight around his neck before letting go, allowing Ed to live one more day of bliss. To be a supplicant to this King and god, a slave to his will and devoted entirely to his being.

He’s never been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bist du bei mir, mein Schatz?”
> 
> Are you with me, my treasure?


	8. Isabella: The Consequences of Flirting with Married Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella is determined to take Ed for herself. She just didn't factor in the consequences of angering an Kapelput.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wrapping up the Fish Mooney chapter but in the meantime have this chapter.

All Oswald had asked for was a bottle of wine. Something cheap and not from their ancient and expensive reserve under the manor. Something that would satisfy the tasteless low class morons from the school board. Namely the teacher who saw fit to punish Martin for “not using his words”. Regardless of being born with functional vocal cords Martin chose to be mute and Oswald will be damned if anyone disrespects his son like that.

Instead his husband had come home three hours late spurting apologies and bounding up the stairs to get changed before woman who had dared to harm their child arrived. Oswald was far too focused on the mixing the poison into the wine to be too concerned about it. The poison worked slowly, hence inviting her over on Friday evening. Her death would give him something to look forward too on those God awful Mondays.

Later that night as Oswald lay in bed with Ed he found himself curious. “Darling, why were you so late? Did something happen at the office?”

Ed blushed, looking away in embarrassment before meeting his husband’s eyes. “Do you remember what I told you about how I met Kristen?” The aforementioned hand paused in helping Oswald paint his nails.

“Yes, I just had to know why the hand you were so adamant about reanimating chose to slap you  as her first act of movement. If you weren’t so fond of her I’d have cast her into the fireplace. I’m glad you two sorted things though, Kristen is marvelous at doing nails and helping me with tailoring and other odd jobs.”

‘Sorting things out’ had involved a lot of apologizing on Ed’s part and promises to treat her to expensive hand massages and manicures along with daily moisturizing. Eventually though Kristen had forgiven him, and Ed was glad of that, though he suspected it was because his ex had become fond of his husband.

“Well, I met a woman who looked just like her, but blonde. And we started talking about wine and literature-oh she tells riddles- and-” Edward stopped hearing the annoyed snapping of Kristen’s fingers. Oswald had one dark eyebrow arched and frown set firmly on his face.

“Edward, dear, it sounds as if you...like this woman.”

Thinking very carefully before he spoke, because of course he liked her,  she had seemed friendly enough, but realizing that something had obviously upset both Kristen and his beloved angel of darkness.

“I found her company...enjoyable. She was pleasant to talk to at least. However, I am unsure of my feelings towards her…I….Am I in trouble?”

Deflating at his husband’s lack of comprehension Oswald shook his head.

“No dear, I just got a little jealous. You seemed so happy talking about this woman.”

“Oh! No, my beautiful bird, I only have eyes for you. I love you more than life and death….It’s just aside from Fox-..Lucius I don’t have many friends.”

“Oh, Edward, I’m sorry I made assumptions. And I’m well aware of your school boy crush on Mr. Fox, he and I have an understanding and I find the man to be quite pleasant. So, don’t feel ashamed of that. I suppose...you could invite this woman over for dinner some evening. Perhaps show her our private library.”

Ed lights up even as Kristen starts pinching him in what is quite clearly her opinion on the matter. But Oswald wants to confront this quickly before he has another “Foxy” situation on his hands. Nevermind the fact Lucius had turned out to be a true gentleman that had already spoken to Edward about his husband’s feelings and made it quite clear he would not be pursuing a married man.

Not that either of them believe Edward had been consciously flirting. Either way the enthusiastic make out session and subsequent blow job his busband had given him in thanks was worth it.

*~*

Throughout dinner the following weekend Oswald was tense. This Isabella women seemed alright, but something about her set him on edge.

The children were with Lucius, a late night tour of the botanical park. He had asked the automatons to thoroughly search the children, namely Ivy, for anything that could sabotage the park. (Regardless the next morning’s headline detailed the panic ensuing after a few man eating giant fly traps appeared in the garden. They were only young sprouts so only a few fingers were missing. Oswald suspected she planted them before the winter to let them hibernate and had been waiting for them to sprout.)

The woman Edward seemed so fascinated with had shown up in a lovely pearl colored evening gown that fell to her knees. An expert charcoal grey smokey eye and soft pink lips turned up in a pleasant smile. She and Ed spent most of the evening discussing books they'd read before she suddenly started asking about the mansion. Ed flushed and turned to Oswald. “I'm sure that my darling husband could tell you more than I could. It's belongs to his father, but his mother recently did the decor.”

“Oh. Has it been in the family long?”

“According to my father it's been in his family since the early days of Gotham. The Van Dahls are one of the founding families.”

“How exciting! There must be so much history here.”

Oswald preened but then blushed slightly. “I am sure there is, however my mother and father were unable to be together and she left before I was born. They've only reconnected within the last three years. At the moment they are visiting my mother's old home in Germany and then staying with her family in Austria for a while. My mother you see is mostly Hungarian/Germanic in decent so she has family all over that area.” 

“How lovely for them,” Isabella sighed and turned to looked back over at Ed. There was a look in her eye that made Oswald twitch.

“I do love romance. And tragedies, so lucky for me the two genre often intertwine. Though as a child I always dreamed of having a happy ending with my true love.” 

Ed smiled indulgently and Isabella responded. Her whole body language changing as she gave him her full attention. “I'm sure you understand, you have Oswald after all.” 

Ed beamed turning to take Oswald's hand and bring it to his lips for an intense kiss. Trailing his lips to his wrist and sucking at the skin there. “Oh yes, my dearest Oswald. He's certainly my greatest tragedy. And my one true love.” 

Isabella’s face was tight as Oswald met her eyes. Gleaming with triumph. Edward was _his_ and no matter what this simpering look-a-like did his husband was thoroughly bound to him. Body, heart, and soul.

“Why don't I show Isabella the library now, love. You can join us if you'd like.”

“In a moment dear, I have phone call to make regarding some business tonight. I'll be in later.”

Kristen, who had been tapping her nails in agitation since Isabella arrived snapped. “Of course, Kristen, as long as you're comfortable with it.”

Kristen shuffled over and perched on Ed's shoulder and he went over to pull out Oswald's chair, helping his husband stand gracefully. Then he went over to help Isabella up and offered her his arm. And they went off to the library.

*~*

“Oh Edward! This library is amazing!”

“I'm glad you like it.”

Kristen hopped off his shoulder and over for to the projector and flipped it on. The image that came up was the clipping about Kristen’s murder.

“Oh!” Isabella gasped and stared at the picture. 

“When you said I looked familiar I didn't think this is what you meant.” 

“Kristen! I'm sorry. I think she's upset about the resemblance.” Kristen flipped him off and scurried over to the anatomy section to look at hand care.

Isabella sighed and came closer, putting her hand on his arm. “That's alright. Now, what books do you have?”

Ed went on and on leading her around the library and talking about the different sections, naming specific books he enjoyed. All the while Isabella was asking questions and touching Ed's hand or arm.

“Edward, tonight had been lovely.”

“Yes, it's been a while since I've been through the library this thoroughly. Oswald's leg prevents him from taking these long strolls or from getting to the second or third floor often.”

Isabella tsked. “What a shame. I'm glad you had a chance to do so. And to discuss these things with another intellectual.” She said sliding closer into Edward's arms.

“Oswald is very intelligent, so I'm not lacking in intellectual conversation.” 

“I'm sure,” Isabella said distractedly. She reached out and touched Edward's chest, sliding her hand up to his shoulder.

“Don't you ever wish for more?”

“Of course not! Oswald takes very good care of me.”

Isabella frowned. “You know, Edward, it sounds like your happiness hinges on your husband. Don't you do anything or have anything that you enjoy on your own?”

“Of course! Oswald isn't a scientist, but I still enjoy it. And he remodeled a room for me to use as a lab. He didn't have to and he did. And it's nice to be able to enjoy other things together.” 

“I don't know, it sounds like he's awfully controlling.”

“He's possessive, but I adore it! Belonging to him so totally. Plus he did let you come over. Oh he was so terribly jealous. But we talked about it and he knows that you only want to be friends.”

“Ed that's not healthy. And besides, I am interested in more than friendship. You're handsome, a genius, a-”

“A married man. Isabella, I'm sorry but regardless of what you believe of my marriage I am happy and frankly not interested in you that way.”

Isabella huffed, arms circling around his neck and pulled herself flush. Ed braced his hands on her hips and pushed her back.  “That's enough! I wanted a friend and nothing else. I thought you did too, but I can see I was wrong. Get out of my house, don't call me, or try to contact me in any way.” 

“Edward!”

“You heard him, get out.”

“Oswald! Oh dear, how long have you been-” Edward gasped, sounding panicked.

“Don't worry, Ed, I understand what's going on.”

Edward visibly relaxed, stepping out of Isabella’s grasp. Isabella turned a sour look to him but stood her ground.

“He deserves someone less controlling. Someone who puts his well being first.”

“You dare to make assumptions about our relationship!?” Oswald hissed.

Before Oswald could get carried away  Ed put his arm around his waist. Dipping down to press a sweet kiss to Oswald's cheek. One hand wandered down to Oswald’s cane, gently caressing his love’s hand.

“You should leave Isabella, now, or you won't get the chance.”

“Edward, please, just one chance.” She made to take a step forward but didn't get a chance. The top of Oswald's cane twisted off and the knife was buried in her chest with an elegant flick of Ed's wrist.

“Such a shame, I was hoping to have a friend to discuss literature with.”

“I'm sorry love. Maybe you and Lucius could have a weekend to go through the library. Some of these shelves need cleaning out. The old tomes can be moved to the storage.”

Ed smiled and kissed his husband.

“Now, as for her body. I have noticed our children have gotten better at outsmarting our mechanical staff.”

“Are you sure about this, Oswald?”

“Yes, I rather like the idea of ordering her around. Her saucey attitude at dinner is not to go unpunished.”

“Darling, that's petty.” Edward teased. Oswald turned and curled a hand around Ed's throat, squeezing gently.

“Would you rather I punish you?” Ed gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing under Oswald's fingers.

“Would you? Chain me up, have your way with me. Leave me unsatisfied and begging for release.”

Oswald purred, sliding into Ed's waiting arms, letting the taller man support him as he wrapped his arms around Ed's neck and hitched his good leg up.

“Of course, any time. Anything for you. Also, I think I'll stitch her mouth shut. Her voice vexes me.”

“Of course. Now are we continuing here or shall we retire to the bedroom?”

Oswald leaned up, taking Ed's lips in a rough kiss, sucking harshly on the supple pink flesh.

When he pulled back Edward was flushed and panting, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Bedroom, I think mein liebe.” Edward wasted no time, hoisting Oswald up and carrying him out of the library.

*~*

The following Monday Edward came downstairs and was greeted not by an automaton holding his paper and his coffee but the newly reanimated Isabella. Oswald had been particularly ruthless with her corpse, completely dismembering her to remove the blood and vital organs before putting her back together. The result was a ghoulish looking sheet white woman with obvious black stitches standing out around her hairline, neck, wrists, and ankles. Ed supposed there were more that he couldn’t see.

However, his eyes were immediately drawn to the tight black stitches across her lips. The thread glinting with a metallic sheen, so they were probably heavy. Isabella met his eyes, the corners of her lips twitching as she tried to smile. Behind Ed came the rhythmic tapping of his husband descending the stairs with his cane.

“Do you like it? I worked hard to ensure not a single sound could escape her vile mouth.”

“Your stitching is beautiful, as always. A true master of your craft, my love. She will be obedient though, won’t she. I wouldn’t want her to cause problems and perhaps influence the other staff.”

“Of course, the rules of reanimation have properly bound her to the will of the family. I have added a few….precautions, just to be sure.”

“Wonderful! I know I barely knew her, but it does feel like such shame to have let her go to waste. I’m glad we reached this compromise. Much more useful like this than as a corpse. Now, Isabelle, why don’t you head up stairs and rouse the children, I assume breakfast is ready.”

Isabella huffed, clearly angered by either his attitude but unable to do anything but nod the affirmative and allow them to finish their descent before respectfully bowing her head and marching up the stairs.

“Edward, you devil.”

“I wanted to make sure the message was loud and clear. I only have eyes for you, now let’s have breakfast.”


	9. The Girl Who Wanted to Become a Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fish Mooney had a tough life growing up, but that only made her more determined to make it to the top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should have been done much sooner but I was depending on my lovely friend and fellow fanfic author Mrgoldsdearie to help me out and she and I have had a hectic few months. It's mostly on me though since I started working and my hours are all over the place so finding time to write anything at all is a pain. However, I have some time off coming up and I promised some people tentacle smut, so I guess ya'll are getting that for Halloween.

Fish Mooney loved her Mama,  Annalise Mooney, with all of her heart. She loved her and respected her as any child would, but  she soon  decided at the age of five that she wouldn't be like her.  Fish had watched numerous times from  around the corner of their tiny one-room apartment  as her mother's  boss smacked her  across the face with the back of his ring-clad hand. She's seen him hit her mother  hard enough to knock her back into the rickety kitchen table  and draw blood from her nose and lips .  It was only a few years after her fifth birthday when she came to know that the man who seemed to control her mother was actually a pimp, selling women on the street like valuable property. 

Another gloomy night in their small apartment in the Narrows district of Gotham City, the man came to collect like he has always done. 

“ Bitch, if you try to keep my cut from me again— ” he raised his hand to the smaller woman— “ you won't get off  this fucking  easy next time.” He scolded, thundering his hand down on Annalise’s face. “Don't you ever think I won't fuckin kill you. Yo life ain't worth shit!” 

When she was struck, Annalise’s body hit the kitchen table and she knocked her head on one of the cheap China plates she and Fish have their supper on whenever they can afford a proper meal. Tonight was one of those nights and she was able to treat her child to a home-cooked chicken dinner because she did skimp on paying her pimp. She thought Fish deserved something warm in her stomach. 

“I'm sorry, Big Daddy Money,” her voice cracked as she picked herself up from the table. She wiped away the blood dripping from her forehead with one of the paper napkins on the table. “I won't let it happen again.” 

Fish watched from behind the corner with tears in her eyes. She'd thought she'd be used to seeing her mother being treated like trash,  but never like this. How could her Mama just let him do that to her?

He left  the apartment after taking any money Annalise had in the house  and slammed the door  shut behind him , breaking it so that it swung back open —allowing the  freezing November wind into the apartment. After that day, they had to put a heavy brick in front of the door to hold it shut and that was that.

 

~*~

 

Annalise  brought home a lot of men and Fish was used to hearing doors slams, beds creaking, and other  various sounds a growing child will never forget. However, Annalise never lets  any of the visiting men  hit her or Fish and  she wasn't afraid to grab a grown man by the ear and toss him out  if he ever disrespected her home. If only she had the strength and courage to do the same to Big Daddy Money. She felt that she needed him and will take anything he dished out to her as long as he kept her safe on the job. 

Fish didn’t quite understand at that time why this  particular  man was different  from the others . After that night though, hearing him threaten to kill her mother, Fish  knew exactly what kind of man he was.  She knew her Mama was scared  from the look in her eyes every time he was around . 

That man was the only thing between them and living in the streets.  Annalise  had to do whatever it took to keep Fish safe and to do that she had to be alive, so she always stayed on his good side —though some days were harder than others. 

When Fish got  a little older  she started to  understand that these men paid Big Daddy Money to spend time with her mother , but she still didn’t understand what they were doing, and wouldn’t until she was twelve and git puberty. 

Fish seemed to be one of the last to know exactly what it was her Mama was doing. After hearing the whispers and seeing the disgusted looks she thought she should ask. Her Mama had given her a long talk about being a woman and sex and how Fish was growing up. It explained a lot, why people looked at her and her Mama with poorly disguised distaste.

She still had questions though and one day, during Thanksgiving break she finally gathered the courage to ask.

“Why do you have sex with all those men, Mama?” Fish asked softly, as her Mama heated up some soup for their dinner. Is was just an old can of tomato soup which her mother picked up from the corner store on her way home after being out all night.    


Annalise turned to face Fish sitting at the table and squinted at the child, cocking her head slightly to the right with her hands on her hips. “Who the hell do you think you are, Jada,” she snapped. 

Jada is Fish’s real name, but no one calls her that except her mother to this day.

“What the hell do you think you know ‘bout my goddamn business?” , she goes on to say.  “You think you gonna run up and down these streets like a foo’ just cause  you got some  little titties  that  grew in this summer?”  She touches her own breasts comparing their size to Fish's to mock the child.   “If I ever see you doin’ —”  points down at  Fish , stepping into her shadow — “ anythin’ with those boys on the streets, I'll smack yo,  black, skinny ass so hard into next fuckin’ week. Do you understand me, little girl?”

  
“No! Mama,” Fish exclaimed. “I ain't done nothin like that. Just…people at school talk about it. The principal wanted to talk to me about it.” She tells the honest truth.    


“What happens in this house ain't none of they goddamn business.  Do you hear me? .  Now you go run off and tell ‘em that.” 

When Fish turns her head away in shame, Annalise took hold of the child’s chin and turned her back to face her. 

“Everything I do,”  she continued, hoping to drill some sense into the child. “ Every little thing, I do for you so you don't grow up without nothin’. I provide for you. Ain't nobody gonna look out for you the way I do.  Do you   understand me,  Jada ?”   
  
“Yes, Mama.”

And that had been the end of that conversation. She never brought it up again but that didn't mean others let it drop.

 

~*~

Annalise Mooney was called in by the school principal after school was let out for the day and the next morning she showed up in the office, curious as to what they wanted to see her about. 

She sits in the chair across from the principal's desk, annoyed and questioning herself as to why she even came. She has an idea of what this is all about. 

“Ms. Mooney,” the principal says, folding her hands on top of the desk. “Thank you for coming in today. You must be very busy and I'm glad you took the time show.” 

“Yeah.” She shifts in the chair. “Why y'all call me to come all this way? Jada is in school every day. I make sure of that.”

“Yes, ma'am, but this isn't about her attendance.”

“So what is it.”

The principal takes a deep breath before starting her concerns. “Jada is a good kid and she tries to stay out of trouble, but we have a few concerns about her home life.”

Annalise slightly tips her head. 

“We know and understand that you are taking care of her on your own, but sometimes the child comes to school wearing the same clothes as the day before or doesn't appear to have taken a bath in several days. These signs are setting off alarms that there's an issue at home.” 

“You call me all the way down here just to ask my daughter the same things. She gonna tell you the same answers too. I know what ya’ll think is goin’ on. But I ain’t done a thing that wasn’t for my little girl. She ain’t never gone hungry and she ain’t never gotten frostbite, but she has gotten a little cold in our apartment. Just cause the heat ain’t always work and she ain’t got fancy clothes don’t mean I’m mistreating her. You’ll see.” 

The principal scowled at her but continued, “We would like you to talk with the counselor and the representative from Child Services. We need to ensure that your daughter is properly taken care of and in a safe environment.”

“Ain’t nowhere safe, but fine.”

After a long thirty minutes of vague or one syllable answers, the counselor and Child Service representative they weren’t going to get anywhere with her and told her she could leave and that they would compare her answers with her daughter’s. Any discrepancies were grounds for her to be investigated further.

“Ms. Mooney, do you understand that there is a very high risk that you could lose your daughter?”

“Like hell, I will,” she spat and stood up a nd strutting over to the door. She pulled it open, not bothering to look back or say a proper goodbye.

She spotted Fish, sitting in a chair waiting to be called in to speak with the principal and the counselor. “ You behave in school, alrigh’ girl? Good.” And with that her mother strutted out, keeping her head high amongst the crowd of well-dressed women and their disapproving looks.

 

~*~

Fish knew from the second she heard her name over the loudspeaker that something was up. She hadn't done anything to warrant being pulled from her first-hour class. It was called “seminar” which was an hour-long class first thing in the morning where you sat around and either did last night's homework or that night’s. Unless you were talking to friends or catching up on sleep.

Fish had to get up early to catch her bus to school and so she almost always used her morning class to catch an extra hour of sleep, so she was already pissed about the principal pulling her away from her well-deserved nap time. Entering the office she noticed that there was a woman dressed smartly in business clothes holding a briefcase.

“Good morning, Ms. Mooney, please take a seat outside Mrs. Clannaker’s door. She'll be with you in a moment.”

Mrs. Clannaker? The school guidance counselor. Of fucking course, they were going to ask her a bunch of dumb questions about her home and her life. Apparently her mother's message of “mind your own damn business” hadn't sunk in.

“Who’s she?” Fish demanded, pointing at the businesswoman.

“I'm from child services, Jada. I'm going to accompany you to your appointment  with the counselor.”

Fish wrinkled her nose in disgust when the woman used her real name. Her disgust morphed into a sneer as she spat out, “I didn't make an appointment.”

“We know, but the State has some concerns about your home life. In the past, you have been uncooperative in answering our questions. After our last attempt and your mother's message we became concerned your lack of cooperation was caused by a fear of backlash from your mother.”

Fish snorted, she was worried about her Mama’s “backlash” often in the form of a verbal berating or a back _ hand _ . But aside from that Fish didn't see why the hell the school or the state or whoever had to be so goddamn nosy. She was fine.  _ They _ were fine. The door to the counselors opened and Fish felt her stomach drop. Her Mama was in there, and she didn’t look happy.

“Alright Ms. Mooney, thank you for coming down to speak with us. We’re just going to ask your daughter a few questions and then she’s free to go back to class.”

Her mother huffed and pulled on her jacket, the patches in the sleeves where her mother had repaired it herself standing out starkly amongst the nice new coats of the women in the office.

She stood up from her chair and straightens her jacket, then looked down at Fish. “You behave in school today.”

And with that her mother strutted out, keeping her head high amongst the crowd of well-dressed women and their disapproving looks.   
  


 

~*~

Fish was in her room, the only room in their little flat to be exact. The door barely on its hinges and so small that to most people it would be a closet. Her Mama was in the living room, seated on the couch with Big Daddy Money. Fish snorted, what a fucking ridiculous name.

She was fifteen now, still growing and looking more and more like her Mama every day. Fish had plans tonight, to go out with a few other girls from school. They were just gonna go to the mall and window shop, and maybe get some greasy fast food from the food court. Fish knew she wouldn’t be able to  _ buy _ anything, but that’s why she was going with other girls she knew from the soup kitchen she sometimes went to after school.

There were very few other kids from the Narrows or the surrounding area in her school, and that’s mostly because the Narrows had a school, but it’s dropout rates and reputation was so bad that her mother had insisted she get up the extra hour early to take a bus to Lower District and then catch the bus to school.

She looked in the mirror, assessing her outfit, a wine red halter top that exposed a strip of skin above the waistline of her black skinny jeans, and some wedge sandals. Fake gold bracelets lined her arm and adorned her ears, which she got pierced for her thirteenth birthday. Happy with her look she turned to the piles of clothes on her bed.

Piles might have been a generous term. One pile was very small and consisted of the few clothes Fish had managed to find at thrift stores that looked brand new. They were in good shape and fashionable. The other much larger set of clothes was handed me downs from her mother, which was mostly pants and skirts and her Mama would forever have larger tits than her.

The main reason she wasn’t going to be buying anything at the mall today was that she was saving the little money she got from working at the corner store in the Lower District on weekends to go to Salvation Army. They usually had pretty decent stuff and that way she could get multiple new outfits for the same price she would pay for one at the mall. She’d go through the hand me downs more carefully and set aside anything that was still in good condition and in style.

She left her room and was determined to zip by unnoticed but of course, her Mama stopped her.

“You goin’ out?” She asked, turning her head to catch Fish’s eye. Fish had no idea what her Mama and her pimp had been discussing, but she didn’t like the way his arm was around her Mama. But she knew better than to not look her Mama in the eye when speaking.

“Yes Ma’am, I’m going with a few friends to the mall. I ’m not buying anything, just hanging out.

“You wearing that? Those are your good clothes.”

“Yes Mama,” She answered, trying not to sound bitter about the fact that her “nice clothes” were second-hand thrift shop clothes. Not that they weren’t nice, but it still stung that she couldn’t have nice clothes that were new and be able to wear them every day.

“Whatchoo, you goin’ to the mall fo’ if you ain’t gonna buy nothing?” Her mom’s pimp teased.

He had turned around, arm dropping from around her Mama to look at her. Fish shivered internally at the way his eyes roamed across her.

“Come here, girl,” He ordered. And Fish really didn’t want to, and her Mama looked even less pleased. But saying no to Big Daddy Money was not a smart move, especially when he was so close to her Mama, so easily able to hurt her.

Fish walked to stand in front of the man, feeling like a piece of meat on display. He looked her over again and then smiled, trying to seem charming and friendly and not like a pervert.

“You growin' up Fish. I remember when you was small. Ha! I sound like an old man, though gotta admit I don’t look bad for forty, do I?”

Fish shifted uncomfortably, it was clear the question was directed at her, and she knew she had to answer soon. But there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t end badly. In the end she chose the one that wouldn’t get her or her Mama pimp slapped.

“Yes sir, can’t even tell you’re a day over thirty-two.” He laughed, sounding incredibly pleased with her praise.

“Anyway, you’re growin' up, gonna need some nice new things. Here,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He dug around for a few second before handing over a hundred dollar bill.

Fish stood stunned and her Mama’s eyes darkened. “That’s very generous of you, but we get on just fine, don’t we Jada?” Fish nodded, wanting to escape this situation.

“I see that, but this ain’t abou’ yo. Now, come on girly, it’s a gift, for all the combined birthdays I missed.”

Fish swallowed, she knew her Mama didn’t want her to take it. Knew that somehow this was more than just a passing interest. She was scared, but more so for her mother if she didn’t take it. So hesitantly she reached out and took the money from his hand.

“There you go, now go buy yourself something real nice.”

“Thank you sir, I will. I need to go now, or I’ll miss the bus.” She ducked her head, not wanting to meet her Mama’s eyes and too sickened by the thought of meeting his any longer and left the apartment.

 

~*~

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” Annalise spat, turning to the man next to her.

“Watch yo tone, I ain’t gonna take lip from no whore.” The man snapped, fixing her with a warning look.

“You know my rule, no one looks at my baby. She’s off the table.”

“An who helped you enforce that rule?! Who made sure that when you didn’t get a room, or go to his place, when he didn’t want a quick car fuck, who made sure they knew the rules!? Who made sure you came home safe every night! I take good care of you, so don’t you dare tell me what to do!”

“Me living in this dump is safe!? Not eating three meals a day everyday so my baby don’t go hungry!? Breaking my damn front do’, in this fucking neighborhood! Yeah I’m real fuckin’ safe! I don’t care what happens to me, my girl is off limits. You touch her, and I swear I won’t take the next back hand lying down.”

She stood, glaring down at the man she hated, hating even more that she still needed him if she wanted any money at all. He stood, making Annalise have to tilt her head up to keep glaring into eyes that were staring back with just as much ice.

“You fucked up, bitch. I ain’t gonna play nice no more. Your girl safe for now, but with you as her Mama, we all know exactly where she’ll end up. At least with me I’d have treated her right.”   
  
“She ain’t gonna end up like me. I’ll make damn sure of that. Now get the hell out of my house,” She was firm but her voice was tired. She wished she could go back in time, this time she’d listen to her mother. She’d finish school and get a job and not end up on the streets working for this piece of shit.

But then she wouldn’t have Fish. “You used to be my girl, what happened?”

“She did. Jada is my everything. I didn’t have enough self respect or sense to tell you to fuck off. An’ you hooked me up with one of yo buddies, and I got knocked up. And then he fucking left an’ here you were, all glitz and bling promising me you’d take care of me. And I fucking believed you, and I let you do whatever you wanted. But then I had her, and I knew I had to be better for her. So go on, do whatever you gotta do, but you ain’t gonna touch my baby until I’m dead and cold six fuckin’ feet under.”

 

~*~

Somewhere in the back of her head Fish knew this was a bad idea. And looking herself over in the mirror, noting the places her mother’s “work clothes” didn’t quite sit right only made her feel incredibly young and unprepared for the task she had appointed herself. But she was her mother’s daughter and her stubbornness was stronger than the little voice in the back of her head telling her to use her common sense.

After all she was doing this for her Mama, for them. So that sick son of a bitch would never come in here again and lay hands on her mother. Never undress both of them with his eyes again. In fact he couldn’t do anything to anyone anymore if Fish went through with this. All she had to do was flirt a little. Make him let his guard down.

Steeling her nerves she took one last look at her Mama, sleeping on their old broken down sofa that had more duct tape than actual upholstery on it and snuck out the door. It was early morning, 3:00 AM, and most of the night time business would be going home for the day. She had to work fast if she wanted this to work. 

The small pocket knife she stole from one of the lockers at school felt heavy in her jacket pocket. And despite the weight of it she didn’t feel like she was safe from the few prying eyes still wandering the streets at this time. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she shivered against the cold wind. The fishnets and gold sequined mini skirt offering her legs no protection.

She turned a corner and kept walking. If rumors were to be believed the crumbling old motel on the edge of the Narrows was where her mother’s pimp held his business before returning to his house somewhere in the Midtown district. Not exactly Upper Gotham but a far cry better than the dirty streets, and unlicensed bars, and gang fighting in the Narrows. As another hard shiver shook her body and her heels buckled, causing her to stumble against a nearby wall.

“Damn it,” she hissed, tempted to ditch the damn things all together and walk barefoot. One look at the amount of broken glass on the sidewalk though made her change her mind.

“First time in Mama’s heels, little girl?” 

Oh shit. Fish knew that voice. It was the man she had come out tonight to speak with. But hearing him, seeing him right now, while she was dressed like this and vulnerable, she shivered again, but not from the wind.

“I’m getting used to them,” she lied. They were so hard to walk in, but she was determined not to have him see her as the child she really was if her plan was going to work. 

“I could see that,” the pimp answered, scaling his eyes up and down her body. She was more delicious looking than normal; a proper whore ready to be trained and broken in. “So what brings a sweet young thing like you around here anyway?” 

She was scared but she knew what she had to do to end her family’s suffering. “I…” She cleared her throat, swallowing down the nervousness that edged in it. “I came to see you,” she said with more confidence, shifting her weight and placing a hand on her hip. Watching her mom all of these years, she knew the importance of body language. 

“Oh is that right?” he quickly replied with a chuckle, rubbing his hands together and nodding. This sweet treat was all his for the taking. Being dressed like that, he knew what she wanted and he was more than willing to provide. “So why are we standing out here in the wind? I always keep a room open for myself.” He stares heading towards the motel. “Come on, girl.” 

She took a deep breath, shaking out her jitters before following him to the room. She can’t show any signs of nerves if she’s to succeed in seducing her first man. So far it was easier than she thought. 

Once inside the room, her mama’s pimp took out two beers he had in a cooler by the bed. He popped open the top and offered it to the underaged girl. 

Fish hesitated to take the can. She has never a had a beer in her life. She’s seen many half-empty bottles and cans in the apartment, but she’s never been tempted to try them.

“Come on, girl. It ain’t gonna bite you,” He egged her on to take it. 

With shaky hands, Fish took the beer and gulped down a little. It tasted like what she imagined battery acid to taste and it unexpectedly burned down her throat. The beer was the cheapest brand of malt liquor in the store with the highest alcohol content. A few ounces of that could easily get a young girl blackout drunk. 

“Good, isn’t it,” he said with a wicked grin, popping open his own can of beer. He took a long drink as he sat down on the bed. 

Fish kicked off her heels and sat her can on the bedside table then join him on the bed. 

“Did I say you could sit, girl,” he bellowed, the voice echoed through the room. 

His voice shot shivers down her spine as she quickly hopped up from the mattress. 

He laughed, taking another drink from the can. “I’m just fucking with you, Fish. Relax. We’re here to have fun.” 

Fish gave a nervous laugh as she sat back down. If she’s to have the upper hand here, something like that can never happen again. “You’re right. We are here to have fun. I really wanna show you what I can do.” 

“Then what’s keeping you?” 

She licked his lips and straddled his lap, resting her hands on his shoulders. 

“Isn’t that a pretty sight.” He grasped at her ass, squeezing her cheeks firmly. “What else you got, girl?” 

Fish's body trembled when he grabbed her. It burned like magma searing her flesh when he touched her. If this is how it’s going to be the entire time, this will easily become unbearable. She wished it was over already. 

Steeling her nerves, Fish leaned forward, taking his earlobe between her lips and nibbling softly before nipping at the skin harshly. She felt sick to her stomach, the taste of this man’s skin like poison inside her. From this close, she was practically gagging on the cologne he used. Fish couldn’t tell if it was a cheap cologne or a really expensive one that he used way too much of.

Either way, her insides churned, worsened by his moan of approval as he tightened his grip on her ass. “Mmmmh, your Mama musta taught you that,” he purred.

Fish wanted to scream but instead, she shifted to start trailing kisses on his neck. “Careful now girly, don’t leave any marks.” He warned, his other hand moving up to start groping her breast. Scared of what the consequences may be if she disobeyed, she was careful to not leave a mark. She shifted lower, mouthing at his collarbone.

When she moved lower she had unintentionally rubbed against his growing erection, eliciting a sharp gasp. Feeling like she’d rather die than continue this Fish began reluctantly rocking onto his bulge.

“There you go, now you’re getting it.” He hummed taking a moment to chug the rest of his beer before tossing the can behind him. Hand free to continue groping he clutched at her tits again, grip almost painfully tight.

“You ain’t gonna have a rack like yo Mama when you done growin’, but that’s alright. I like em little too, easier to fit the whole thing in yo hand,” He muttered, leaning in to bite the bare skin on the top of her breasts, which were just barely covered by her mom’s old tube top.

Fish said nothing just moved to kiss up the other side of his neck. When she got to the juncture of his neck and jaw he turned his head suddenly. His hand left her tits and reached up quickly, catching the back of her head.

She felt the sharp sting of his fingers working into her hair, locking her in place. Immediately Fish wanted to run, to turn away, but then she remembered the blade in her pocket. Unfortunately, her arms were trapped between their chests and there was no way she could reach it, no way to stop it as his lips crashed into hers.

The sickening taste of the cheap alcohol and his breath filled her mouth, bile swirling in the back of her throat, but she forced it down. Much to her shame, she felt tears burning her eyes and squeezed them shut to prevent them from falling. Even as his tongue forced itself into her mouth, forcing her to open up to him, she refused to cry.

No matter how scared she was, no matter how much she wished she could go home, bathe in scalding hot water and scrub his touch from her skin, no matter how ashamed she felt at this, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t be weak, not in front of him.

“Aw, don’t be so tense, baby. I know, you’re nervous, it’s obvious you ain’t done this before. I’m kinda shocked you ain’t. But I know something we can do that’s really easy.”

Before Fish could respond he pushed her backward, still gulping air after the invasive kiss and unprepared for the sudden shove she fell off his lap, landing with a solid thump on her ass. He chuckled, amused by her ungraceful landing. For an instant, her anger overwhelmed her fear and she glared up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. It ruins your pretty face,” he teased, lifting a hand to cup her chin and run his fingers along her jaw. Fish’s hand twitched, this could be her opportunity.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her roughly in between his spread legs. And suddenly Fish knew what he wanted, and where this was going. She froze, any thoughts she’d had about taking her chance vanishing from her mind as she watched with growing terror and disgust as he unbuckled his fancy silver belt buckle.

Finally, her senses came back to her and she reached into her pocket, lunging forward and flicking the blade open. For a split second, she thought it was going to work, that her knife was going to sink into his neck and he’d die bleeding out on the bed in front of her while she pocketed all his valuables. 

Then reality kicked in as she realized her lunge had been clumsy, a blind desperate attempt made from an awkward angle. His hand caught her wrist as the knife neared his shoulder, too low to hit his neck and too high to hit anything vital. Fear washed over her, so strong she didn’t even scream, or tremble, or cry. She just knelt there, wide eyes locked on his hand around her wrist.

His grip tightened, and this time she cried out as she felt her bones creak in protest. He twisted his arm sharply and the knife slipped from her grip to land uselessly on the bed next to him.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” He growled, each word sharp, defined by the chilling pause in between. Fish said nothing, there was nothing she  _ could  _ say. This had been a fucking stupid plan from the beginning. She should have stayed the hell away. She knew this man was dangerous, that he was a pervert, but she thought she could con him. Use her body to distract him and then rob him blind. Eliminate the shadow that had hung over her entire life.

He yanked her up by her wrist, she saw him pull his other hand back out of the corner of her eye, and  _ SMACK! _

The backhand sent her reeling back onto the floor. Her ears were ringing and her hand flew up to cup her cheek. She distantly noticed that her cheek was wet and that he’d used the hand with all the rings on it to hit her. Metal and gemstone digging into her sensitive skin. Now she was trembling, tears escaping her eyes because she was no longer focused on being tough. 

She wanted to go home, wanted her Mama, she didn’t want this. And he didn’t care, taking Fish’s still full can and swigging it down before grabbing her again. Hand tearing at her hair and making her whine. She closed her eyes, tried to turn away as he undid the button and zip on the front of his pants.

He pulled his pants and boxers down, still holding Fish by the back of the head, and his cock bobbled out from his clothing. If Fish wanted to play at being a murdering whore, he was going to treat her like one. 

Fish trembled in fear as he aligned himself to force his cock down her throat. She clenched her mouth closed like a vice and he pulled her hair back harder - causing her to scream in pain. 

He wasted no time filling her mouth and rushed inside her. 

“You like that, you little bitch? This is what it feels like to be a real whore, instead of just playing at one.”

Fish gagged and choked as her face was ruddy with tears and saliva. She had to get out of this, things were not supposed to go this far. 

When he slapped her, the knife fell to the floor between his legs and he hadn’t noticed that it still in her reach before pulling down his pains. 

Fish brushed her hands over the floor until she felt it and immediately picked it up to plunge the sharp end into his right thigh. 

He screamed in agonizing pain as blood flowed down his leg. He pushes Fish off of his cock and limply fell back onto the bed. 

“You stupid bitch!”

Fish finally felt like she was in control and gripped the knife tighter as she stood to her feet. 

This was it. She gets to end her nightmare once ate for all. 

With a hunger to succeed at ending his life, she lunged at him again and sent the life drilling straight into his chest. She quickly removes it and stabs him again, and again, and again - crying out in pain, vengeance, and redemption. She was not only doing this for herself but her mother as well - to free her from the hands of his monster. 

Blood slandered and stained the walls each time she pulled the knife out she rammed it back inside. 

His body quivered as it drained of life until it was finally still. 

Taking a deep breath Fish forced herself to quit crying. She had to get out of there, but first she had to get what she came here for. Steeling herself she reached into his pockets and took out his wallet, removing any cash that was there and the small key to the safe that was built into the dresser of the shitty motel nightstand. 

She also pried the rings off his fingers and slipped the chains from around his neck. Coat pockets bulging she did her best to slip calmly from the room and not draw any attention to herself. Luckily the staff inside the motel seemed to give zero fucks about her as she stumbled outside.

Despite every instinct telling her to run home she forced herself to stay calm, sneakily dumping his wallet into a smoldering trash can fire. Dawn was just beginning to light up the sky by the time she stumbled exhaustedly into her flat.

“Where the hell you been?!” Her mother demanded, grabbing her shoulders harshly.

“An’ what the fuck you wearing girl. I swear if you-” She stopped when she heard her daughters choked sob. The trembling in her shoulders having nothing to do with the vice like grip she had on her.

“Mama, he’s dead. He’s dead Mama,” she gasped, collapsing against her.

“Who? What the hell you done, girl?”

“I went there, I went to see him. I was just gonna sweet talk him, pick his pocket. I just wanted to get us some extra money. But he….I-he…..” She sobbed again.

“Chirst, you killed  _ him _ , fuck. Fuck! What are we supposed to do now?”

Fish straightened, deciding to be strong for them both in that moment and calmly emptied her pockets.

“Jesus, all that. You stole all that?! He’s dead? He ain’t gonna come back?”

“No, Mama. That bastard’s gone for good.”

Then Fish’s mother did something she did expect. She was met with a slap to the face, knocking out all that she had stole from her hands and making Fish stumble back. 

“Something could have happened to you girl,” her mother scolded. 

Fish rubbed her cheek, shivering at what her mother has done. Maybe she did deserve it for pretending to be a whore and thinking she could seduce anyone. Who the hell did she think she could fool? 

“I’m sorry, mama!,” Fish cried out. 

“Girl, let me finish.” She closes the gap between her and her daughter. “But nothing did happen to you,” her mother added, eyes swelling with tears of pride. She took Fish into her arms and held her close. “Thank you, baby” she sobs. “I think you saved both of our lives, but don’t you ever do anything that foolish again.” 


End file.
